Chapter 1
Piper
There’s nothing quite as exhilarating and annoyingly frustrating as being packed into a coffee shop in New York City on a Monday morning, with seventy other people who are equally as frustrated and annoyed.
At this point, everyone around me is lucky I haven’t punched them out.
I’m not a morning person.
I’m sure as hell not a Monday morning person.
I shift from one foot to the other. My heels are already making my feet ache, and I didn’t bring any walking shoes.
Rookie mistake.
I’m nearly contemplating standing barefoot in the middle of a crowded coffee shop, risking the safety of my toes, when a voice shouts my name from the far left of the counter.
“Piper!”
I look up to see the smiling face of my favorite barista in the city, Gabe, and he’s waving me over to him.
I squeeze, shimmy, and slide my way through the crowd and over to my savior in the green apron.
“I could kiss you. Seriously. Do you want to make out? You deserve it,” I say, placing my hands on the counter.
“Sorry, beautiful. As tempting as that is, I prefer a bit of beard with my make-out sessions,” he replies. “Your face is a little too smooth for my liking.”
“The good ones are always gay or taken,” I huff lovingly.
“Getting the usual today?” He starts pulling a variety of cup sizes down to write on them.
“Yes, but Asshole decided he wanted oat milk today. God forbid we allow dairy to upset his delicate stomach. Actually, put fucking heavy cream in there. I want to watch him fall apart during a meeting later. It would make my Monday a little brighter.”
“You’re vicious, but I don’t want you to lose your job. I’ll stick to the requested oat milk.”
Asshole, as I so lovingly call him, is a nickname for my horrific boss. And by horrific, I mean he’s the actual worst. Not to mention he’s so goddamn beautiful that his personality being so horrible is like a sick, cosmic joke.
I’ve been an assistant/secretary/errand runner with Lennox Publishing for six years, and for the most part, I’ve loved it. Hell, for the first five years, I completely loved it, and then Carlson Lennox decided to step down unexpectedly last year and let his son take the reins.
Thus, began the last year of utter annoyance and frustration that has made me contemplate murder.
“All right, I’ve got you all set to go.” Gabe says, snapping me out of my thought process.
He places the drink carrier on the counter, and I slide the company credit card through the card reader, shove the receipt in my purse before turning on my aching feet, and heading back out in the bustling Manhattan commute.
***
Lennox Publishing is located on the top floor of a high rise on Madison Avenue. With stunning views of Central Park, it’s one of the few things about working here that keeps me sane.
The view and my coworker and best friend, Kate.
“Careful. He’s on the warpath today,” she says when I open the large glass doors that lead into the main reception area. She is seated perfectly behind the desk with her blonde hair twisted into a knot on top of her head. She adjusts her black-rimmed glasses and smiles. “Good luck.”
“Shit. What happened?” I examine the labels on the coffees before plucking her mocha latte from the carrier and placing it on the desk for her.
“I’m not sure.” She takes the coffee and sips it slowly. “He was extra rude when he strutted through this morning. He didn’t even acknowledge me. He simply told me to not let anyone bother him today. Honestly, he’s lucky he’s so damn fine. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have a thing going for him.” She takes another sip. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.” I shift my bag on my shoulder. She’s right, by the way. He is, without a doubt, one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on in person. The tall, dark, handsome, panties evaporate at the sight of him type of hot. It’s unfortunate he’s a fucking fuckface.
“I guess I’ll go brave The Asshole. If I die in there, just know you were always my best friend, I love you, and I don’t regret our experimentation phase in college.” I give her a smile.
She places her hand over her heart. “Swoon. Me neither.” With a shake of the head, she waves me on. “Get out of here.”
We confirm that we will grab lunch together before I make my way down the hallway toward the main offices in the back. I pass by the small row of cubicles and offices with their doors open, delivering coffees, making small talk and pleasantries. I stop by my desk angled just off to the side at the end of the hall. I have a little window and a lovely view, and it makes me happy. I strip out of my jacket, adjusting my pencil skirt and white top that is tucked in.
I still when I hear a deep voice shouting from the other side of the wall that I share with The Asshole. He’s really letting someone have it, which can only mean wonderful things for me. Note the sarcasm.
Did I mention I’m his secretary? It’s a joy, really. And yes, that was also sarcasm.
After seriously contemplating spitting in his coffee, I snatch it out of the carrier and stand in front of the frosted glass door with his name—Nathanial Lennox—emblazoned across in a black, strong font. I take a breath and pray to whichever higher being exists that I don’t snap on this fucker today.
“I need this job. I need this job. I need this job,” I whisper to myself as I knock on his door.
I hear him slam his phone back onto the receiver. “Come in.”
I twist the sleek, silver handle and push the door open.
He’s seated behind his desk, looking exactly like the rich, sexy, powerful asshole he is.
It pains me every time I see him because he is truly beautiful, with his stunningly dark eyes and broad shoulders. Too bad his personality makes him about as appealing as a slide down a fire ant hill into a pool of rubbing alcohol, all while wearing a skirt and no panties.
He’s already lost his tie and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. His hair is mussed up like he’s been running his hands through it. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about sliding my hands through it in the throes of ecstasy, but the fantasy quickly changes to me gripping hard on the strands and tossing him into a wall.
“Drip coffee with oat milk.” I hold up the cup before placing it on his desk.
“You’re late,” he gruffs before taking a drink of his coffee.
“I don’t believe I am, actually.” I nod toward the clock on his wall. “That clock has been five minutes fast for years.”
He checks the watch on his wrist then gives me a nod before his eyes come to rest on my face.
Then, I swear, his eyes drop down to my body so briefly I think I may have even imagined it.
Heat spreads over my skin and my cheeks flush red.
Christ’s sake, Piper. It’s not been that long since you’ve had sex. This is a human response to imagined physical appreciation from a fucking stunning asshole of a man. Get it together.
“Can I get you anything else before I begin my day?” I ask him with a forced smile.
“A hot coffee. This one,” he holds up his cup, “is cold.”